


Kinkos Printers Can't Do This

by crazyparakiss



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles manges an accidental miracle, and is never a hundred percent on how it happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinkos Printers Can't Do This

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Mags for the beta, and I apologize if the story is not to your liking dear prompter. A series of unfortunate events and RL crap kept me from completing my original story and I was very depressed over that fact. Thank you to the mods for putting up with me through all of my RL crap.

“Uh,” Stiles glances at Scott. “Is that…?”

 

“Yes,” Scott says. His eyes wide and mouth slack as he stares at the spot where Stiles’s father’s printer/copy machine _used_ to be.

 

“How the hell did this happen?” Stiles groans, kicking through the files scattered across his dad’s office floor. “It’s not like I _asked_ for this to— _fuck_!”

 

“Stiles, dude, you did kind of say _I wish we had more Alphas in our pack to deal with these Alphas_.” Scott nods in the corner. “They kinda look like Alphas, man.”

 

“No, Scott, the glowing red eyes didn’t give that away.” Stiles’s arms gesticulate wildly as his voice rises, “What the hell are we going to tell my dad? He’s not exactly hip to the whole werewolf mess, in case you’d forgotten!” Then he stops, eyes wide and glazed, as another thought strikes him, “What are we going to tell _Derek_?!”

 

“The truth,” Scott says in a rather reasonable tone—pissing Stiles off to no end.

 

“Because the truth and Derek go hand in hand,” he groans, “Oh my God, Scott, he’s really going to rip my throat out.”

 

“Yeah,” Scott supplies helpfully. Then with a horrible smirk and a snort he adds, “He’ll probably do it with his teeth.”

 

“You are so not funny right now,” Stiles hisses before turning back to their present company. “Com’on, Scotty, it’s time to deal with _this_.” He scratches fingers over his scalp and says, “Clothes would be a good start, right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Okay, time to break out the sheriff’s department's sweats—then we can deal with getting them all…uh…” Stiles wasn’t quite sure _where_ he was taking his sudden arrivals.

 

“We’re not taking them to my house—I’ve got Isaac.”

 

“And rooms to spare,” Stiles argues with a shriek. “I’ve got two spare rooms Scott! You’ve got three!”

 

“My mom already wants to kill me for Isaac, dude—besides you’ve got the basement, right?” Stiles gives him a cold look at that.

 

“You really think they want to be housed in a _basement_ , Scott, really?”

 

“It’s not like you’re going to burn the house down.” Stiles is so tempted to punch him, but refrains because he knows it will hurt him than it will hurt Scott.

 

“I hate you,” he snarls.

 

“You really don’t,” Scott laughs—the complete asshole.

 

***

 

There are seven of them total. Four Alphas and three children, Betas. All of them pile into the back of Stiles’s Jeep except for the old lady who has a severe black bun and sharp hazel eyes. She takes the passenger seat, much to Stiles’s dismay.

 

It’s a ten minute drive from the station to his house, and he wishes it was an hour because ten minutes isn’t enough time to come up with a brilliant reason for his dad to say yes to a group of werewolves who were dead until a little over a half hour ago. Jesus, this is his life.

 

“You’re cold,” a warm voice says from his right and Stiles watches as the old woman leans forward to turn on his heater.

 

“Sorry, I forgot my jacket.” She smiles at his response, and it’s a smile unlike any he’s ever seen on Derek—genuine and full of love.

 

“Don’t apologize for things you cannot change, and don’t suffer in silence just because you think it will benefit others. It is okay to be selfish in certain regards, my boy.” It’s like she’s seeing into him—looking at all the things he sacrifices for his dad, Scott, and the wolves he’s grown to care about. She’s in a place beneath the sarcasm and asshole attitude—watching the scared little boy who’s vulnerable and afraid. Stiles swallows.

 

The youngest of the women— _Laura_ —says she wants some damn curly fries, and receives a sharp thwack on the back of her head from the other woman in the back moments before they pull into Stiles’s driveway.

 

He stares up at his childhood home wishing for the twelve billionth time that his mother was here—she’d be fine with him inviting in wolves, but Stiles isn’t so sure about his dad. His dad who is still reeling from finding out all these deaths revolved around Derek, Scott, and the wayward youth who make up Derek’s pack. His dad who is still angry Stiles knew more and didn’t trust him with the truth.

 

But that’s not it. Stiles has never not trusted his dad—even those few months when he was out of his mind drunk and spouting off words Stiles knew he didn’t mean. He’s always trusted him, but he’s always been scared of losing him more.

 

“In and out, my boy, all you can do is breathe.” The old woman at his side speaks as she pops open his door—groaning from the weight as it swings open. “You don’t have to take us in—we’re survivors.”

 

Without thinking he reaches out, closing a hand around a seemingly delicate wrist, and says, “No. I won’t do that.”

 

There is something approving in her eyes as she smiles, “Didn’t your mother ever tell you the story of Little Red Riding Hood?”

 

Stiles laughs, “I’m pretty sure you aren’t going to eat my grandma—they both died before I was born. Besides that one back there,” Stiles jerks a thumb in Laura’s direction, “Says she wants fries, and I’m pretty sure my sweet potato curly fries are way better tasting than my dad.”

 

“That’s not the moral of the story I was suggesting, you know—trusting strangers is a dangerous game, Stiles.” She’s completely serious now, and he swallows beneath the scrutiny.

 

“I know, but you guys aren’t strangers.” At her surprised expression he hastens to add, “I know Derek—therefore I know you. He’s good, despite what I’m always telling Scott, and I know that goodness had to come from somewhere.”

 

She nods with satisfaction before slipping gracefully from his seat, and Stiles hurries out of his car when he notices the rest of the wolves filing out single file.

 

On the porch, he rings the doorbell—feeling extremely awkward about waiting on the porch of his own home, but he thinks it’s preferable to barging in with a pack and his dad losing his shit.

 

When Dad opens the door his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and Stiles tries to placate him with his disarming smile. “Hey, Dad, uh—,” he’s interrupted before he can complete his sentence.

 

“What the hell is this, Stiles?” His dad darts worried glances around the yard before double checking the street at the end of the driveway, “Get in here, _now_.”

 

As soon as the door is shut he rounds on them and points a very angry finger in Stiles’s direction, “Explain. Now.”

 

He winces, and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I—uh—well.” Stiles trails off, at a loss, because really he’s not sure how to explain this one. He was with Scott. They went to his dad’s office. Found some old files in a battered box marked “Hale fire”, and were about to rummage through them when Stiles tripped and dropped the files everywhere as he stumbled into the copy machine. That was when the damn thing turned itself on and ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX. SEVEN. Passes of light under the copier’s door before POOF it was gone and there in it’s place was Derek’s dead pack.

 

“Mr. Stilinski, allow me to introduce myself—my name is Ingrid Hale.” The old woman extends her hand towards Stiles’s dad and Stiles watches as recognition floods his dad’s face.

 

“Ingrid Hale,” Dad whispers, “ _Dead_ grandmother of Derek Hale.”

 

“One and the same,” she seems awfully amused when Dad runs a scrutinizing gaze over all of them.

 

“These are the Hales, Stiles.” Stiles doesn’t point out that he’s fully aware. “You brought people back from the dead!?” That causes Stiles to wince, and he’s about to protest—defend himself or something because he really didn’t know stumbling into a copier would make this happen, but the older guy speaks before Stiles can come up with a proper defense for himself.

 

“To be fair, Stiles wasn’t _trying_ to bring us back. I’ve a feeling that was more Alan than anyone.” He extends a hand to Dad just as Ingrid had, only his eyes are red ringed when he says, “I’m Simon, Second Alpha of the Hale pack.”

 

“John,” Dad says, voice surprisingly strong given the circumstances. “John Stilinski. You’ve all met my boy, Stiles.”

 

“It was a pleasure, and he’s a good boy,” the woman Stiles assumes is Derek’s mother says as she steps forward. “I am Talia Hale, Head Alpha of the Hale pack. That’s my husband,” she nods at Simon. “His mother,” Talia gestures at Ingrid. “Our eldest daughter, Laura,” Laura gives a cheery wave at her mention. “Our youngest son, Paul,” she gestures for the brooding thirteen year old boy to wave and he does with a small scowl. “Our nephew Mark,” she indicates the guy who looks like the pictures of Peter when he was a teenager, and he gives a casual wave and friendly smile in return. “And lastly, our youngest daughter, Vita.” She’s all of six years old and hides behind her brother’s leg, giving them a shy smile when they all turn their attention her way.

 

Suddenly, with them here, Stiles can see what Kate stole from Derek—from Derek’s pack—and he feels as if all the air has been taken from his lungs. He can smell ash and taste burning flesh as the world around him goes dark. Vaguely, he hears people shouting his name, but he’s too far down the rabbit hole to notice.

 

***

 

When Stiles comes to, Laura is soothing his brow with a damp washcloth. She shushes him when he moves to sit up, and says, “It’s okay, Stiles.” And rubs a gentle finger across the curve of his cheek, “Don’t worry about it—we’re right as rain again. The fire was awful, but they’re here again—if I can accept that then so should you.”

 

Stiles nods—a short jerky movement. “I just—sometimes my imagination has a way of running me into dark places before I can stop it.” She cracks a kind half smile at him.

 

“I know another person like that,” Laura doesn’t elaborate—just kisses his forehead and tells him to sleep.

 

“What about my dad,” he asks before she leaves the room. “Where are you guys going to go?”

 

“Nowhere,” she laughs—a teasing sound that tickles his ears and warms his heart. “You’re dad thinks we’re important to you and since you’re important to him it was kind of a given that he’d say yes.”

 

“Good,” he whispers knowing she will hear him, and he wraps his arms around his pillow before falling easily back into sleep.

 

***

 

Isaac knowing about the Hales poses a huge problem. Because he’s still Derek’s beta whether Derek wants him to be or not, and he feels obligated to go to Derek. Even if he thinks the guy is a mountain of dicks at the moment.

 

“Please, Isaac,” Stiles begs before Isaac can make it to the door, prostrating himself against the old wood as he puts his hands out trying to hold Isaac back.

 

“Stiles,” Isaac growls, and apparently that’s the wrong thing for him to do because soon he has an angry Alpha Laura pinning him to the wall.

 

“He asked nicely. I won’t.” Her claws are long dark red curls, the same color as the nail polish she uses.

 

“Laura,” he says and she lets Isaac go, but growls in warning. Which, huh, weird.

 

Scott’s standing there, between Vita and Mark, looking between Laura and Isaac. He jerks his head at Isaac who obeys the silent order, and not for the first time Stiles wonders if Scott’s becoming an Alpha whether he wants to or not.

 

His voice filters through the loud silence in Stiles’s ears, “You’re going to have to tell Derek, Stiles. He of all people deserves to know.”

 

Breathing out a sigh, Stiles groans, “I know, Scott.”

  
  


***

 

Stiles has always been a fan of ignoring problems while hoping in vain that they will just disappear. Of course they don’t disappear, mostly they just progressively get worse. That’s what happens with Derek’s family in regards to telling Derek. Which he doesn’t—for 3 months—at all; Derek just sort of finds out about them when he bumps into Talia, Simon, Stiles, and Vita at the grocery store.

 

At first it’s almost hilarious—Derek’s eyes sort of bug out of his head and Stiles does a fine impression of an epileptic jellyfish. Immediately after it stops being funny and starts becoming a charged silence that is hard for Stiles to handle. Guilt runs through him, and he’s got no doubt that he’s pungent with it’s acrid odor.

 

“Mom,” Derek says, his voice choked and ruined. Stiles feels like an ass and steps back when Talia rushes over to wrap her arms around Derek’s shoulders. Simon moves towards him at a much more sedate pace, clapping Derek on the shoulder and whispering son in a fond manner that reminds Stiles of his own father. It hurts to hear. Vita, who’s standing in the back of the cart stops Stiles from running away when he’s about to bolt. Little fingers clench in his shirt sleeve, holding him back with surprising strength.

 

“Stay, Stiles,” she whispers, “Momma and Daddy wouldn’t want you to leave.”

 

He stays despite the angry looks Derek gives him, and feels comforted when Talia pulls him into a hug after they load the groceries into his Jeep and Derek’s new mom car. Stiles can tell Derek doesn’t want to leave them, but he says, “I should get the milk home before it spoils.”

 

Simon smiles at him, and Stiles notices how much like his father Derek looks when his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Go get Peter and Cora, bring them by and we’ll have a proper reunion.”

 

“Yeah,” Derek says, eyes sparkling with happiness as he opens the driver’s side door.

 

***

 

“So I get to eat some of this meat, right?” Dad asks while looking around the banquet of meats Stiles helped Talia and Ingrid prepare. “I’m not going to be stuck sucking down mystery meats and tofu, am I?”

 

Stiles laughs, “If you don’t get out of here you just might.”

 

“I want extra sauce on my ribs,” his dad says while trying to look threatening, but it makes Stiles laugh.

 

The doorbell rings at a quarter to seven, and Stiles shoos his dad into the living room before going to open the door. Derek stands there on his front porch with Cora and Peter flanking him. It’s an odd sight to say the least, but Stiles sweeps aside and allows them inside. Before the grand family reunion can happen the doorbell rings again, and Stiles frowns as he goes to check who it is.

 

Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica are on the porch smiling hopeful little Beta smiles. Stiles rolls his eyes when Scott holds up a peace offering gift of wine and moves aside to let them in, “It’s a good thing I made enough food, Scotty or your ass would be grass right now.”

 

“Isaac brought a pie,” Scott supplies and Stiles laughs. It’s store bought but Stiles figures it’ll do.

 

“Where’s Melissa?” Dad asks when he wanders in to see all the commotion.

 

“Work,” Erica comments with a shrug, “She’s the one who sent the wine.”

 

More is about to be said, but all the words in the room dry up when Ingrid’s graceful walk brings her down the stairs.

 

Stiles isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Peter’s inhale—sounding like a choked _Mother_. It hurts Stiles to hear because he knows what it’d be like to see your mother again after years of accepting the fact she’s dead. He knows because he’s dreamed it so many times it feels real—until he opens his eyes and has hope ripped away from him. Those are the days when he’s needed Scott the most—the nights when a late drive over and his spare key are the only way he knows he’ll come back from the brink of doing something extremely stupid. He feels Scott’s hand on his shoulder now, a warm clamp that brings his heart back down to a normal rhythm and he leans into the touch. Scott is his anchor, and has been Stiles’s anchor since they met—a lifeline that made him remember what was beautiful and worth it about life after his mom died.

 

“It’s okay, buddy,” Scott whispers in his ear, and Stiles nods his thanks.

 

Not a moment later Ingrid slaps Peter across the face. “My stupid boy,” she says and then pulls him into a hug, squeezing the life out of him with the force of it. “How I’ve missed you despite your recent faults.”

 

Peter clings to her just as fiercely, but lets her go when he sees Mark. It’s a look similar to the one Derek wore when he saw his mother for the first time in the grocery store only it’s more painful. Peter looks as if he’s been flayed open, and he stumbles in his haste to get to Mark.

 

“I watched you burn,” he sobs, hands shaking as he traces the contours of his son’s face. “I tasted the burning flesh and I heard you scream—can still feel it when I dream.” His eyes flash blue—visceral pain that he’s buried for years and is reliving as he watches his son’s face.

 

“I’m here, Dad, I’m here,” Mark whispers—his eyes golden and his voice less than human as he talks Peter back to the realm of now.

 

“I tried,” Peter says with a cracking tone of voice, and Mark smiles. “I tried to get you out.”

 

“I know, Dad.” He pulls Peter into his long arms and smiles in apology against his father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for what I said about Mom before…I…I didn’t mean any of it.”

 

Peter carefully extracts himself from Mark’s hold and claps his hands on his son’s shoulders, “There will be time for that later. For now, know that I forgave you long ago.”

 

Simon pats Peter on the back on his way over to Derek and Cora, Talia at his side holding Vita. Laura and Paul hover near the kitchen, both of them whispering loudly about all the sappy shit and how they’re hungry. Isaac is watching Peter with considering eyes, and Scott’s patting his back while Erica moves closer to the kitchen to engage Laura in conversation. Boyd hangs back in silence, watching everything with mild interest.

 

Dad pulls Stiles into his side and places a quick kiss against his temple, whispering, “You did good, Son.”

 

It’s the best thing he’s heard all evening.

 

***

 

Talia and Simon talk to Derek about finances when Derek tells them he lost the house. Stiles is invited to sit in on the conversation much to Derek’s displeasure, but they insist and so he does.

 

“How much do you have left?” Simon asks, and Derek shoots a suspicious glance Stiles’s way before he answers.

 

“A fair amount. Enough to get the land back and put towards rebuilding, but I—I just didn’t think I’d want to, all things considered.” Sometimes it still surprises Stiles that Derek can be honest. He’s so used to the year when they had to fight Derek for the smallest bit of information, and he knows Derek did it because he thought secrecy would keep them safe.

 

“We don’t need much to rebuild, we’ve still got friends in the business of helping werewolves when they are down and out. Alan can help put us in touch with the Cameron pack and we can see if they’d mind making a donation for our dealing with the Alpha pack.” Talia speaks with a leader’s commanding tone, but there is still the mother in her—soft and frightening without needing force.

 

“Deucalion?” Derek’s eyes are wide when he realizes what she intends to do and Stiles watches as a scowl forms on his face. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

 

“As we are well aware, Derek,” Talia interrupts before he can spout off his usual spiel of reasons they cannot fight the Alpha pack. Derek likes to believe he can take them all alone, and Stiles wants to punch him in the face when he gets like this. “Deucalion isn’t a new threat. We’ve dealt with him before.” She curls her hand around Simon’s.

 

“But-,” she cuts Derek off again.

 

“We only blinded him last time we had negotiations with his pack. And, yes, that was before the Alphas, but we have five Alphas to their four, and Betas to boot.” She squeezes Simon’s hand and he smiles encouragingly before she continues. “We can handle this issue, Derek. If you’re willing to stop playing the martyr and will allow us to come together as a strong, united, pack.”

 

Stiles expects him to resist, but Derek sighs and whispers, “Fine.”

 

***

 

A few weeks later, after a few not so subtle attacks against Derek, the Hales have spoken to the Camerons, and are moving the few items they’ve acquired during their stay with Stiles. He watches Laura help Vita pack up her My Little Pony shirts and the random dresses she demanded when they went to the mall a week back.

 

“How long until they get the house built?” He hadn’t been allowed near the Hale property since Scott discovered the Alpha symbol on the door.

 

“About half a year or more, depending.” She says as she pulls on a hoodie. Stiles notices it’s one of his red ones. “We’ll be working on it around the clock, between planning and fighting, so possibly sooner.” She sighs and sends Vita out of the room, telling her to take her bag to Talia to put in their newly acquired bus turned Hale family vehicle. “When the fighting goes down you have to stay out of the way,” she says seriously. Stiles frowns at her and Laura shakes her head. “I mean it, Stiles. You and Vita will stay behind. It’ll distract Derek too much if you’re there.”

 

He laughs—can’t help it really because the thought of him distracting Derek is hilarious. “Right, I got it—fragile human will stay behind.” He winks, and she pins him to the wall in a manner reminiscent of Derek a year back.

 

“There’s a reason you were able to call us back, Stiles. You’re important to Derek. More than you know, and he recognizes what that means even if he’s yet to accept it.” Stiles is confused to say the least, but he nods and what Laura finds in his scent and expression satisfy her enough to back off.

 

***

 

Derek’s near the van, helping load up bags and ancient tomes Deaton gave to Talia with a silent nod the other day after dinner. Stiles hangs back and watches as they all laugh and talk about running in the woods again—about what it will mean to go home. He tries not to feel sad; they’ll be, at most, thirty minutes away, but it’s hard when he’s grown accustomed to having all of them on top of him at all times.

 

He smiles when they are all loaded up, and one by one they pull him into fierce hugs.

 

“Be good and stay safe, my boy,” Ingrid whispers against him and Stiles holds her for a long time, just after Talia and Laura both of whom he hugged just as long.

 

“I will, and don’t be strangers,” he says with a with a fragile grin.

 

“You won’t be able to get rid of us if you try,” Laura wears a wicked smile of her own.

 

***

 

Eventually, things come to a head. Stiles is in his room reading about Alphas and how mates work when Paul shows up, streaked with dirt and mud and a frightened Vita clinging to his torso.

 

“What happened?” Stiles demands and he lets them in and leads them towards the safe room in the basement. Vita flinches when Stiles tries to coax her and Paul into the space. “Shh,” he says and takes her into his hold. “I promise nothing can hurt you in here. It’s completely separate from the house—a fireproof room, my dad made certain.” He looks to Paul, “You have to stay here with her. I will ash around the perimeter of the house, but bad things can still happen, so promise me both of you will not leave this room.”

 

“I promise,” Paul says solemnly.

 

“Good, now tell me where they are.”

 

Stiles is about to leave the room after Paul tells him the location, but Paul whispers his name and Stiles pauses and turns, waiting for him to speak.

 

“Don’t die...there’s something Derek needs to tell you.”

 

His smile is wry and he thanks Paul, “Sure, I’ll try not to.” He catches Vita’s small voice saying, “We love you.” But doesn’t turn back because he knows he won’t be able to go if he sees their scared faces.

 

***

 

Derek, Talia, and Laura are fighting with Deucalion and Kali. While Simon, Ingrid, Peter, Mark, Isaac and Scott battle the remaining Alphas. Erica, Cora, and Boyd are running the woods with Allison keeping an eye on the perimeter. Stiles knows because a glowing eyed Erica landed on the hood of his Jeep when he turned onto the path leading to the old Hale house.

 

He stops the car and stumbles out of it just as Deucalion rips a chunk out of Talia’s shoulder. Derek and Stiles scream at the same time, and both move forward with the same intent—Derek with his claws out and Stiles with a shotgun; full of wolfsbane infused shells. He cocks it just as Derek dives into Deucalion. Laura is right behind him—snapping her elongated teeth, going for Deucalion’s heels.

 

Stiles gets up in his face, and is about to pull the trigger when pain blooms in his sides. Deucalion’s slicing him open, but he pulls the trigger regardless whispering, “C’est la mort,” when the bullet goes through Deucalion’s chest—straight into his heart.

 

The world goes weird around him and Stiles is aware of strong arms and a strangely familiar scent while there are shouts that sound suspiciously like his name.

 

“Tell my dad-,” he tries, but his words are a garble of sounds choked on blood.

 

“No, no, Stiles!” Someone’s crying but he’s not sure who and he burrows his face into the strong chest, breathing deep and feeling safe.

 

“Do something!” Is the last thing he hears shouted as the world fades to darkness.

 

***

 

He comes to in the back of the Hale’s van. A loud sound escapes his throat, rattling the vehicle and he tries to sit up, but Derek pushes him back down. “Shhh,” he murmurs and Stiles tries to fight his hold until he realizes he is safe—then he settles against the seat. Noticing the overwhelming scent of blood, he looks around his body and winces at the tacky mess covering him.

 

“Oh God, this is gross.” He hisses while his side throbs, and Stiles lifts his shirt to look at the damage. What he finds is nothing more than bruised skin. Stiles turns on Derek and snarls, reaching out to shove him before stopping. His long fingers are tipped with claws, and he feels bitter because he wasn’t given a choice. “What did you _do_?”

 

“Saved your life,” Derek whispers and he’s _different_. A softer Derek who’s looking at Stiles with something akin to gratefulness.

 

“Yes, thanks, but why?” He doesn’t want to sound hateful. Truthfully, he’s wanted this for a long time. The Bite’s a gift is what they all said, and it’d be a lie to say he’s never wanted that gift. But Stiles wanted it on his terms.

 

Derek touches his cheek while wearing a wry smile, as if he can smell Stiles’s anxiety, “You’re too young to know right now.” Though Stiles thinks he knows what Derek’s implying when he pulls Stiles close and buries his nose in the space between Stiles’s jaw and neck. A fleeting kiss presses against his cheek when Derek pulls away.

 

Something in Stiles sings at Derek’s touch and whispers a word he thought was legend— _mate_. He reaches a hand out to stop Derek, and he stays with the barest of touch. “I’ll wait for you,” he promises, a soft whisper for just them. And Derek relaxes in his hold, as if he was waiting for Stiles to say he’ll stay around; that he won’t give up hope on Derek.

 

As if Stiles gives up on anyone—he’s too loyal to give up on those he keeps close to his hear. That includes Derek and his pack (previously dead and new) now.

 

He leaves Stiles sitting in the van and Stiles can’t focus his hearing enough to find out where he’s gone. So he stays in the silence looking up at the star-studded sky.

 

Scott finds him there and bumps his shoulder against Stiles’s. “Whoa, dude, you’re eyes are red.” When Stiles gapes at him Scott laughs, “Guess that’s what you get for killing an Alpha—which was stupid and badass.”

 

Stiles chuckled, “Well when it comes to us, stupid and badass are synonymous.”

 

Scott agrees then says, “Guess we’ll need to get you to your dad soon. Break the news.”

 

“Can’t we just wait until he figures it out?”

 

“That’s a no go, dude, besides he’ll ground you otherwise.”

 

“How the hell can a mere mortal ground this Alpha wolf?” Stiles jumps up and makes exaggerated movements with his muscles causing someone behind him to laugh. He turns to see Laura cackling with glee and blushes as he stumbles over his own feet, retreating closer to Scott.

 

“I knew you were the one,” she says as she yanks him into a rough headlock.

 

“How?”

 

“Only mates are born with a magic strong enough to heal the soul’s wounds.” She releases him and he realises what his unrealized love did; he’s staring at the living, breathing proof.

 

“Wow.”

 

“Pretty much,” Laura shrugs with her usual careless grin.

 

“What does this mean?”

 

Laura laughs, “Anything you want. One day, when you’re older, Derek can court you and you can make it hard as hell for him. You know, like you both normally do.”

 

He hears Scott crack a laugh at that and can’t help his own smirk, “Yeah, okay.”

 

She turns to leave and calls over her shoulder, “Stiles, now that you’ve got inhuman strength, prepare yourself for a lot of construction building.”

 

He groans turning to Scott who doesn’t give him an ounce of sympathy.

 

“Asshole.”

  
End


End file.
